


Thor Contributes to Society

by mochisquish



Series: Thor Does Stuff on Earth [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Language, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochisquish/pseuds/mochisquish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor attempts to earn money the old-fashioned way when he begins missing the luxury he had on Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thor Contributes to Society

Thor was privileged.  He had the finest clothes, ate the finest meals, rode the finest horse – on Asgard.  In New York, he clung to his armor and Mjolnir and had little else to remind him or those around him of the princely things he deserved.

The lamb on earth was not rich enough (“It’s beef,” the iron man would insist, “and this is Burger King”) and the wine not sweet enough (“That’s raspberry vinaigrette.  Is there a reason you’re drinking it?”).  Thor did admit to enjoying earthly entertainment (“If you watch ‘Maury’ one more time, I’m throwing you out on your ghetto-god ass”), but even that only felt satisfying for so long.

The God of Thunder was at a crossroads:  work to reclaim his godly image or learn the ways of mortals and assimilate.  He gathered his teammates in a large work room to call upon their sympathies.

“Friends,” Thor addressed, palms lifted dramatically.  “I am in need of your help.”

Steve puffed his feathers and spoke in his deep, Savior of Mankind voice which made Tony roll eyes to the ceiling.  “We’re with you,” he assured, ready to obliterate whatever threatened his companion.  “Tell us what happened.”

“I am poor.”

No one wept or vomited from shock or reaffirmed their loyalty – no one cried out that they would die by his side - and so he repeated, with more gravity, “The mighty Thor is _poor_.”

Steve glanced around, tone incredulous.  “Seriously?”

“I need money.”

“Why?”

Thor was bewildered, unprepared to explain what he thought needed no justification.  “I need purpose in my life.”

“Your purpose is to protect humanity.”

Exasperation overtook him and arms flew into the air as he cried, “More requirements for the boy band?  I was told only to protect my comrades.  If there is something else you would like to tell me, I implore you do so now.”

Clint turned, ready to punch someone – anyone – in the face.  “Did seriously no one brief him on the Avengers Initiative?”

“I have been melancholy as of late.  The metal man fed me sick, withering lamb.”

“It was a damn $2 hamburger,” Tony groaned.

“It was full of death and sadness.”

“C’mon, Thor,” Steve interjected, this time with more compassion.  “Those aren’t even real flavors.”

“I must acquire things of value and live the life to which I am accustomed – the life of a god.”

“You already get a salary.”

“It is inadequate.  I was manipulating the intranet yesterday and found I could not afford a gold lion statue.  I quickly destroyed all evidence of my search for I was so humiliated.”

“Is that why my computer’s in a million pieces?”  Steve’s voice rose before he took a breath and tried again.  “You’re supposed to push that little delete button before you close pages.  Even I know that.”

Tony decided he’d borrow the super soldier’s computer at a later time; see what kinds of things the man thought he was erasing.

Steve’s explanation was unsatisfactory to the Norse god, who contorted his face and made strained choking noises like a dying raccoon when he attempted to cry and no tears came.  Natasha berated, “No, Thor,” and he quieted, mouth pursed when his charade was uncovered.

“Get a job,” yawned the archer.

Thor chuckled, lips curled into a lopsided grin.  “Work?” he repeated, coming up next to him.  “You wish for the son of Odin to _labor_?”

Clint drummed fingers on folded arms.  “Uh, yeah, Metalsleeves McDouchenozzle.”

“Alright, guys.”  Steve took a step inside the circle, waved hands to calm the room down.  “Let’s think of something he can do.  Let’s be encouraging.”

“He can sell his organs.  He can prostitute himself.”

“He could…” Steve agreed, trying not to let the positivity wane.  “Keep the ideas coming, everyone.”

“He can kidnap the child of an oil tycoon; send a finger every hour ransom is left unpaid.  He can plant a bomb on the moon and extort money from the government in exchange for the kill code.”

“Okay, Clint.  Let’s allow others to speak.”  Steve tucked fingers under his belt, looked around for someone more invested.  “Miss Romanoff?”

Natasha shrugged, suggested, “Drag show.”

“…No,” said Steve.

“Yes,” said Tony.

“He’s a pretty man and he already has the hair.”  It was hard not to agree with everything she said, but Steve tried anyway.

“You can’t put this man in a drag show.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised in mock astonishment.  “Are you denying that Thor is pretty, Steve?”

“No, but I -”

“So you do think he’s beautiful.  You would date him.”

The Norse god weighed in, stated with certainty, “The Captain’s breasts are large but too firm for Thor’s pleasure.”

An uncomfortable silence followed before Steve spoke feebly.  “…Why would you say that?”

“Is there a reason you’re in my lab?  Wouldn’t you be more comfortable cross-dressing somewhere else?”

The entire room turned to regard Bruce, who sat at a work station across the way, surrounded by metal parts and computer screens.  Natasha cautiously surveyed the area as if seeing it for the first time.  Thor was most startled as he whipped around, fists clenched, prepared for a fight.

Tony stared, voice flat.  “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’ve _been here_.  You’re distracting me.”  Bruce looked at his work before turning back to the group and poking the air with a glass rod.  “And Thor would make an okay woman.  Not great, but he’d be okay.”

“Okay is unacceptable,” Thor decided.  “If I am to be female, I must be the most exquisite.  Women must covet my beauty.  Men must fall at my feet.”

“It’s good to have lofty goals,” commented Clint.

“Bake sale,” Natasha cut in, ignoring them completely.

Steve’s face relaxed, impressed.  “That’s good.  It’s simple and everyone loves baked goods.  It’ll help ease him into the work force.”

“What is required of me?”

“They want you to sell cookies like a Girl Scout.”  Tony rolled on his heels and clicked his tongue.  “You know, the little girls who are cuter than you, who make delicious cookies you can’t hope to top?”

“Oh man,” Clint sighed.  “I love Girl Scout cookies.”

“Thin Mints are my favorite,” Natasha commented.

“I buy 20 boxes and stock up for the year,” came Bruce from a distance.

“I will not be outdone by a clan of tiny bakers!”  There was nothing in Thor’s mind that said he couldn’t beat up a bunch of little girls.  He was going to make the best baked goods the mortal world had ever known.  He would _decimate_ the Girl Scouts.

__________

“What is this travesty?”

Tony hit a cookie against the fold-out table at which Thor was seated and watched as it crumbled into dust.  He poked the side of a cupcake next; wiped his finger off on the edge when half the icing crashed down like a waterfall.

“Thor made them,” Steve informed.  He nodded encouragingly.  “Aren’t they good?”

Tony gave a look that said he wasn’t going to play.  He picked up another cookie, this one decorated with spattered globs of thin white icing.  “It looks like someone ejacu -”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve spat.

“Well?”

The more both studied the cookie, the more their expressions faded into disgust.  They turned slowly to Thor; looked for any sign of confirmation.

The other asked hopefully, “You wish to exchange money for goods?”

“I don't need to buy your cupcakes.  I can get them from a five-star chef who thinks cupcakes are beneath him but bakes them for me because I’m Tony Stark.”

“Many men have said my cupcakes are succulent,” Thor stated.  “Steve could not wait to get his mouth around my cupcakes.”

“That explains so much.”

Fists pounded on the table; sent cookies crashing to the floor and cupcakes rolling off the side.  “Why will you not support small business?  You do not care about me, Tony Stark, with your _money_ and your _things_.”

Tony folded arms across his chest, did not even attempt to feign hurt when he spoke.  “I find that offensive.”

“ _You're_ offensive,” Steve snapped, “to God.”

“Rogers…”

“Buy his cupcakes.”

“I don’t want his gross cupcakes.”

“Buy them, Tony.  Support your teammate.”

Thor sat mutely as he glared up at them both.  Steve was about to throw a finger in Tony’s face when Bruce shuffled by with head down in an attempt to go unnoticed.

Steve noticed.

“Bruce!  Do you want to buy a cupcake?”

The other man froze; looked over his shoulder and forced a smile.  “Oh, hey…yeah, sure.”  He stood in front of the stand, hands in pockets, smile progressively vanishing as he surveyed the mess of crumbs and smashed cake.

“What flavor are these, little girl?”  The chuckling cut off abruptly when Bruce caught the unamused look Thor was silently stabbing him with.  “It looks like…”  He lifted one to eye-level, twisted it in his hand as he noted the dark, burnt cake and questionably blood-red icing.  “Strawberry…feces.  You know, it doesn’t matter.  I’m going to buy it anyway.  Not like I have a choice.  How much?”

Thor said decisively, “Two goats.”

Steve stood behind Bruce, shaking his head and mouthing, _No_.

“Two gold?”

“Dollars,” Steve assisted.

“Two dollars, huh?”  Bruce turned to the super soldier, muttered, “That’s pretty steep for regurgitated rat poison,” as he patted his pockets in search of his wallet.  “Oh, look.  I got a gold dollar on me.”  A bill and a coin were set in front of Thor, who stared at both judgmentally, then looked back at the scientist with equal disdain.

Bruce raised the cupcake in salute, said, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”  Meanwhile, Thor had the coin in his mouth to test its authenticity – bending it - then the bill, which promptly ripped in half.  Bruce watched them both fall into a ragged pile, choked, “Really?” as he strained to smile and keep his voice light, and at that moment Steve thought it best if he moved along.

“Unbelievable,” Tony muttered.  “How much have you made?”

Steve replied, in a voice barely audible, “…Two dollars.”

“That’s what I thought.”  He turned to Thor who busied himself creating a grotesque sculpture from the melted and smashed sweets.  “Why don’t you come out with me and we’ll find you something you’re better suited for.”

Steve moved to stand between them.  “Oh, you’re going to help him now?  What’s in it for you?”

“I feel embarrassed for you both and can’t take it anymore.  I got him an interview at a job placement agency.”

“That was uncharacteristically kind.”

Tony motioned for Thor and he stood, hands covered in frosting and crumbs; cramped uncomfortably as he tried not to mess anything else.  He added, “Throw that shit out, it smells like bleach.”

“Thor, you used water from the tap to make these, right?”

“Liquid is liquid,” the God of Thunder announced.

Steve corrected, “But the directions called for water.”

“The boy band calls for the protection of humanity, but you do not see me doing that.”

“…I don’t know what kind of excuse that is.”

Thor shrugged, without comment, and Steve pursed his lips and waved for them to go.

__________

Thor stretched his arms, finding the dress shirt Tony provided lacking in length.  At the other side of the desk was a woman in dark-rimmed glasses, expression severe until she turned her attention to him and gave an exaggerated smile.

“Mr. Odinson, why don’t you tell me your career interests?”

Thor regarded her blankly, trying to find an answer quickly.  He knew he was good with heavy objects and thought of the easiest thing for him to lift.  “I wish to handle children.”

The woman looked surprised, then delighted.  “Oh, you want to work with kids.”

He replied, “I am not a farmer; I want children, _human children_ ,” with the same disturbing need as a witch in a house made of gingerbread.

“Do you have experience with children?”

Thor cocked his head like a dog trying to interpret a command.  The woman clarified, “Have you worked in child care?  Do you have a teaching degree?”

“When we were young and my brother annoyed me, I would lock him in the meat closet.”

The woman tapped her pen on a pad of paper, willing to entertain his story.

“I told him the racks of meat were that of mother’s other children and he would end up the same if he continued to misbehave.  If left in imprisonment long enough without food or water, he would be forced to eat his siblings.”

The tapping stopped and she commented, “That’s horrifying.”

“It was done in jest, though I often forgot his whereabouts.”  Thor sat a moment, remembering.  “I suppose one could consider it punishment.  I am therefore most knowledgeable in the art of discipline.”

“Actually, sir, from your resume, you sound more suited to physical labor, like a lumberjack.”

“Then I will do that.”

There was a moment’s pause, the agent not intending it to be a serious suggestion.  “New York City isn’t exactly teeming with lumberjacks.”

“Then where shall I go?  Please do not say Kentucky for that did not work out in my favor.  My purple steed fell ill shortly after departing on my journey.  It seizured then grew still and I was forced to put it down with a blow from my hammer.”

Thor waited patiently for a response.  A deep sigh could be heard and the woman’s contempt for her job painted her face.

__________

“What kind of leads did you get?”

Thor pulled shirttails out as he met Tony outside the office building and they walked.  “She said she could not place me.  My skills were unlike anything she had ever witnessed.  It was a great compliment, though it was made clear she would not allow me near children.”

“You actually wanted to work with kids?”

“Why does everyone ask Thor about goats?”

A woman screeched for help, arms flailing as she was pulled into an alley by an unknown assailant.  Thor dashed for her, tangled fingers in the back of the man’s shirt, threw him off and sent him skidding onto the concrete with a blow to the head.  The woman ran in fright while Thor approached where his victim landed.  The man was pulled to his feet, nothing but dead weight as the Norse god patted him down and searched through pockets.

Tony came from behind, looking around for witnesses and surveying the damage.  “…What are you doing?”

“I am ransacking this corpse.”

“First of all, that guy isn’t dead.”

Thor’s nose wrinkled and he dropped the attacker unceremoniously as if somehow more disgusted by the thought of handling a living body.

 “Secondly, you can’t just take things off dead people.  We’re not in an RPG.”

“What is -”

“A role playing game.”

Thor scratched his chin, said knowingly, “Ah, role play…  It is like when you act as if you are more likeable and have greater leadership capabilities than Captain America.”

“…Yeah.”

“But you do not,” he stated, proud he grasped Midgardian terms so well.  “It is pretend.”

“Okay.”

“Delusion.”

“Alright.”

“People do not respect you much at all.”

“Are we done here?”

Thor glanced down at the man on the floor who was now awake enough to be groaning in agony.  “I must return the belongings.”

“No,” Tony decided, in his most authoritative tone.  “Take what you want.  I give you permission because I’m the cool one.  I’m the easy-going hip uncle who buys you beer when you’re 14 and lets you play with guns and goes away for the week leaving you unsupervised and without food.  Steve’s your overbearing mother who shoves broccoli down your throat and makes you go to church at 8 a.m. and knits you weird earmuff/hat/scarf combos – _which I hate_.” 

Thor looked at the wallet in his hand, lost.

“Steve would never let you ransack a corpse,” Tony finished, pointing a finger.  “You remember that.”

Thor’s head jerked suddenly and Tony followed his line of sight.  Coming closer was Bruce, bare-chested and in stained jeans.  He walked casually, and his teammates waited patiently for him to approach, which took literally forever.

Once in earshot, Tony asked, “What are you doing down here?”

“I called Poison Control and they highly suggested I visit the hospital,” the scientist replied tartly, staring at Thor the entire time. 

“That cupcake smelled like Clorox; why would you eat it?”

He replied, “Because I paid money for it,” with much resentment.  “Waste not, want not.”

“Next time use S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medics.”

“No,” Bruce huffed, “screw all of you.  I puked, then the Other Guy puked.  Steve puked from witnessing it all.  Natasha screamed for me to get out and Clint agreed with her.  Cabbies wouldn’t stop because I was half-nude and covered in vomit.  I had to walk down here.  A homeless war vet with one leg said he’d pray for me.”

Thor’s eyebrows rose as if impressed by this tale.

“Well, what name did you give them?”

“Bill Gates.”

“Bill Gates,” Tony parroted.

Bruce’s mouth twitched and he said defensively, “ _It’s a name_.”

A faded white T-shirt brushed Bruce’s hand as it was offered by Thor.  As he unfolded the garment his eyes caught sight of the bruised, partly naked body on the ground next to them.

“…Did you just take this off that unconscious man over there?”

“Tony has given his blessing in the ransacking of corpses.”

Bruce looked at Tony, eyes like slits, judging him.  He shoved the shirt back at Thor and walked on.  Thor watched him go, confused as to how he offended the sorcerer with his gift.  Tony waved it off.

“Okay, look.  First place we see, I’m gonna get you a job.  There -”  He pointed down a side street filled with people and vendors, then playfully slapped Thor’s bicep.  “Fruit stand for a fruit.”

They visited a produce booth and Tony greeted, “Hello, Tony Stark:  Billionaire,” and the rest was cake as the owner melted in his presence.  The owner found a place for Thor selling vegetables, outfitted him with a green apron and tied his hair back; told him to smile and left him to his simple task.

A young woman approached not long after and Thor studied her intensely.  He had no idea what the hell he was doing.

“Excuse me, sir.  I bought this only 20 minutes ago and now I see it’s bruised all up the side.  Can I exchange it?”

Thor cautiously glanced down at the strange green object in the woman’s hand.  Every day spent on earth made it seem more and more foreign and he was tired of having to be educated like a child.  He racked his brain trying to draw on what he’d heard and seen, determined to handle this situation himself.

He said, with a confidence he didn’t truly possess, “Have you turned it on and off?”

“Sorry?”

“Have you unplugged it?”

“This is a cucumber.”

That descriptor did not help at all.

“Is your virus software up to date?” came more cautiously.

“Can I talk to someone else?”

Thor hesitated, tried, “Please wait while I connect you to India.”

The woman barked, “You know what?  Forget it,” and chucked the vegetable back on the pile.

“I appreciate your business, madam.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

Thor bellowed, “Was this service not satisfactory??” and she flipped him off without looking back.  Refusing to be put down, the Norse god increased his efforts.  Now aware of what he was selling also helped.

“Buy Thor’s cucumbers!  They are the longest and plumpest of all cucumbers!  …Unless those are undesirable qualities, in which case they are the shortest and thinnest…and sweetest!...or most bitter.”

His voice boomed down the alleyway, made customers stop and turn before they decided it safer to ignore the loud angry grocer stabbing the air with vegetables.  A boy came cautiously close, more interested in Thor than what he was advertising.

“Ah, young lad wishes to purchase a cucumber.”

The boy didn’t respond, only took in the sight of him.  Thor tried again, “You wish to -” but the kid slowly began moving away.  “Are you going -” and the distance increased.  “They are a fair price!” Thor claimed, and this time the kid promptly about-faced.

The God of Thunder yelled, “Buy it!” threw the cucumber after the boy, who swiftly dodged as he ran away.  Frustration boiled to the surface.  Thor ripped open the waist tie to his apron, left it hanging around his neck as he hastily made his way back to Stark Tower.

__________

He dragged his feet down the halls before turning into a room.  Staring back were the hawk man, the captain, and the metal one, and Thor quickly straightened his posture and wiped the disgruntled look off his face.

“You’re back early,” Tony commented in mock-surprise.

“Did you like your job, Thor?”  Steve noted the torn and dirtied apron and the disheveled hair but kept his smile.

“I sold a long green vegetable – a cucumber.”

Clint knew the answer before he even asked, but would love it more coming from the other man’s lips.  “How’d that work out for ya?”

“People came from miles,” Thor boasted.  “Steve could not wait to get his mouth around my cucumber.”

“ _I wasn’t even there this time_ ,” claimed the super soldier helplessly.  “Please stop saying things like that.”

“I am ready to see the fruits of my labor.  How close am I to acquiring a gold lion statue?”

Tony made a face before taking a sip of brandy.  “You made $8 an hour at the market.”

“And you got $2 from the bake sale,” Steve added.

“That’s at least $10.”

A grin played on Clint’s lips and he asked sweetly, “Feels good to earn your own money, doesn’t it, Thor?”

The total of his earnings was overwhelmingly disappointing, and Thor regarded the archer as if he was an idiot.  “ _No_.”

Steve encouraged, “Give yourself more credit.  They were your first real jobs.”

“I am going to end myself.”

“No, Thor…” he responded half-heartedly, uncomfortable with the current situation.  “…No.”

Tony took another swig before catching Steve’s pleading gaze.  He added, completely uninterested, “Don’t do it.”

Clint asked if anyone wanted a sandwich.  No one did.  He opened the door and found Natasha behind it.

“I have a surprise for Thor,” she said, peeking into the room.

__________

They followed her to Thor’s quarters and she encouraged him inside, trying to hide her own excitement.  A pair of lion statues adorned the entrance to his living room, shining brighter than the sun in brushed gold spray paint.  Two large plastic gems were placed in the eyes and smaller ones trailed down the bodies, leaving lacey remnants of hot glue.

“Those are atrocious,” Tony commented.  “They’re perfect for you.”

Thor circled the gifts, mouth pulled into a genuine smile.  Without warning, Mjolnir came down upon them and the statues exploded into chunks of rock and debris.  Clint grabbed Natasha and fell to the ground, Tony’s glass shattered in his hand, and Steve barely had time to shield his face with his arm.

Natasha scrambled to her feet, yelled, “Oh my God!  _Thor_!”

The God of Thunder circled the mess like an animal hunting prey.  “Where is the chocolate?”

Natasha’s mouth hung agape and the rest of the room waited in fear for her to slip from surprise to rage.  “ _What_?”

“On Asgard, these types of statues are filled with chocolate.”

“ _What_?  Are you kidding me right now?”

“I wasted my entire day because you wanted chocolate?”  Tony spoke into space and received no answer.  He said, “Okay,” and walked out.

Steve brushed off his pants, still a bit shaken.  “Thor, on earth they make chocolate bunnies.  You should have just…we could have gotten you a chocolate bunny.”

Thor shrugged.  “Lion, bunny, it does not matter which strange creature.”

“Maybe I’ll go to the sex shop and get him a chocolate dick,” Clint said evenly, still holding onto Natasha’s arm.  “And then he can choke on it.”

Steve flushed slightly but did not argue the plan.  No one argued the plan, and silence was considered agreement.  Three days later, Thor had a new archway made of chocolate phalluses, and Tony didn’t care what adjustments were made to the Norse god’s floor for he never had to look at it.


End file.
